


Grunt Makes Sandwiches

by BaronVonChop



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-17
Updated: 2013-07-17
Packaged: 2017-12-20 12:04:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/887065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BaronVonChop/pseuds/BaronVonChop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the the crew of the Normandy prepares for a day of shore leave, Grunt is given the task of making sandwiches for a picnic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grunt Makes Sandwiches

**Author's Note:**

> Since this is the first story I posted here, please let me know if you have any suggestions or recommendations!

The crew of the Normandy were gathered in the briefing room a few weeks after the fight on the Collector base. Shepard had called them all together to announce plans for a picnic. “All right,” said Shepard, “We’ll be arriving on Eden Prime in about an hour, so everyone has something to do. Miranda and Jacob, you’re organizing games. Kasumi and Zaeed, you’re on drinks. Garrus and Tali are putting together a music mix. Legion, you find the best spot for the picnic. Thane will make a fruit salad. Samara will arrange the snacks. Mordin will choose the frozen dessert. Grunt, you’re making sandwiches. Don’t worry about dextro foods, Tali and Garrus have already put something together for themselves.”

Everyone filed out of the briefing room except Shepard and Grunt. “Right. Sandwiches. Got it,” said Grunt. While on Tuchanka he had heard about ham sandwiches, which were apparently great because you could hold them in one hand while punching someone with the other.

“Is something wrong, Grunt?” asked Shepard.

“No, no, I can make sandwiches.” Grunt bounced a bit on his toes. “Sandwiches. Easy.”

Shepard’s eyebrows rose. “Then shouldn’t you be going to the kitchen?”

“The kitchen! Of course. I’m on my way.”

* * *

Grunt stood behind the counter in the kitchen, looking around helplessly. “EDI!” he called out.

“There is no need to shout,” came back EDI’s calm voice. “My onboard microphone system can pick up regular speaking voices from anywhere on the ship.”

“I need to make sandwiches,” said Grunt, trying to sound matter-of-fact, though a small amount of panic edged his voice.

“Yes, that is the assignment Shepard gave you.” She paused, then added, “Would you like assistance?”

“Just point me in the right direction.”

“Very well. You will find bread in the cabinet behind you, and meats, lettuce, tomatoes, and condiments in the refrigerator.”

Grunt got these all out and laid them on the counter. He checked the bread first. “This bread is faulty,” he announced. “It is all in one big piece.”

“It needs to be cut,” EDI patiently explained. “Knives are in the drawer in front of you.”

Grunt opened the drawer and pulled out a knife. With great effort, he hacked a misshapen slice of bread from one of the loaves.

EDI offered gently, “That is a steak knife, Grunt. The bread knife is the big, serrated one on the right.”

Grunt dropped the steak knife in the sink and withdrew the bread knife. He cut the loaves into uneven, crumbly slices. “There! Now, the condiments.”

He opened each of the jars and bottles one after the other.

EDI said, “It is generally advisable to use different condiments and meats on different sandwiches, so that everyone can find something they like.”

Grunt scoffed. “That just means that nobody will know what they are getting, and they’ll end up with something they don’t want!”

“Well, you could mark them with—”

“I’m putting everything on everything! Ha ha ha!” With much flailing of elbows, Grunt started splatting condiments all over the bread. He found that squeezing the bottles of ketchup, mustard, and relish was especially expedient, and he could stand at one end of the table, give each bottle a mighty squeeze, and send a grisly gush of each condiment clear to the other end of the table, coating every piece of bread at the same time.

As he reached for the meat, he exclaimed, “Now I know why Shepard wanted me to do this! I’m so good at it!”

EDI’s voice was deadpan. “You certainly have a unique approach.”

Now that he had discovered the technique of standing at one end of the table and applying condiments to all of the sandwiches from there, Grunt decided to continue in the same style by throwing the sliced meat at each piece of bread. With a flick of the wrist, Grunt turned each slice into a floppy discus, sending it zooming down the table.

“I’ll be done in minutes!” the young krogan boasted as he reached for the lettuce. He tried standing at one end of the table, tearing handfuls of lettuce off the heads, and throwing them at the bread, but lettuce turned out to be even less aerodynamic than sandwich meat. Undeterred, Grunt grabbed a head of lettuce in one hand and started running down the length of the table, using his other hand to shred the lettuce and fling it at the piles of bread, condiments, and meat. He repeated the process until he was out of lettuce and the table was entirely covered by an uneven layer of greenery.

That just left the tomatoes. Grunt took up the bread knife and started trying to cut the tomatoes, but he ended up smashing them more than cutting them. Simply placing the tomatoes on the sandwiches did not work either, as they kept rolling off. Then Grunt hit upon the idea of taking a tomato, smashing it between his hands, and wiping the mess onto the lettuce. This worked great, and soon the tomatoes were distributed.

“All done!” laughed Grunt, admiring his handiwork. “There’s never been a sandwich maker like me.”

“That is without a doubt,” intoned EDI.

* * *

The shuttle swooped down to Eden Prime and the crew got off, each carrying something. The spot Legion had picked was a field of green grass. In the distance, forested hills led up to majestic mountains. Legion announced that this spot was 98.1% optimal for a pleasant picnic, and the others agreed.

Miranda and Jacob started to set up a volleyball net.

Kasumi and Zaeed set up some ice chests behind a folding table to create a makeshift bar. They then got to work inventing drinks and naming them after the various crew members.

Garrus and Tali brought out a portable music player and set up speakers. As they started blasting the music, nearly everyone yelled at them to turn it down. Garrus looked like he was on the verge of tears to have to hold back the music system he had calibrated so perfectly.

Thane’s fruit salad was so artistically arranged that the crew almost felt bad digging in.

Zaeed grumbled at the snacks Samara had gotten together. They were various healthy snack bars and packs of nutrient bites, and Zaeed suspected they were manufactured for justicars and asari commandos for long missions behind supply lines. When he tried them, though, even he had to admit that they tasted better than any rations he had ever had.

Mordin’s frozen dessert was a huge hit with everyone. It was an amalgam of two kinds of frozen desserts, so that you used a popsicle stick to hold a bowl made of a popsicle while eating ice cream out of it. He had even made dextro versions for Tali and Garrus, though Tali had to mash it up and eat it through a port in her mask.

Garrus and Tali were both eating a turian packaged meal from containers that kept each element separate. It was based on soldiers’ rations, and Joker had named the ubiquitous snack “Dextro Bento.”

Joker sat in a lawn chair and allowed the rest of the crew to bring him snacks and drinks, declaring that he was tired out from the trip down to the planet.

Grunt was beaming as he lugged a huge cooler chest to the center of the picnic. He put it down and opened it, announcing, “Come on and grab your sandwiches!”

The crew gathered around as Grunt opened the lid.

“Um, Grunt,” said Shepard, “That looks like one solid mass of... sandwich parts.”

Grunt nodded. “This way everyone can take out however much they want!”

Shepard laughed. “I’ll get some plates and forks.”


End file.
